


A Spark of a Plan

by WordsandChocolate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Canon, BAMF Stiles, Creeper Peter Hale, Everybody Lives, Multi, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Sassy Peter Hale, Slow Build, Socially Awkward Derek Hale, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsandChocolate/pseuds/WordsandChocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles decides that Derek's sorry excuse of a pack needs fixing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set vaguely at the end of season 2.
> 
> I have a Teen Wolf tumblr now, so you can find me at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sparkofstiles

“Are there any hunters that actually live by the freakin’ code?” Stiles grumbled to himself, as he tried to move quietly through the woods.

He had trailed the pair of hunters to the woods near the Hale house. Judging by their weapons, he guessed they weren’t paying a friendly visit. Derek may be a grumpy asshole who sucked at being an Alpha, but he didn’t deserve to be bisected. Hanging back, he tried Derek, Allison and Scott’s phones again. No answer. He didn’t have Chris Argent’s number, and he wasn’t going to call Jackson, ‘cos Jackson was a jerk. Lydia would just come and put herself in danger. Stiles sighed, then bit back a yelp and flailed, phone falling from his hand as Isaac dropped to the ground from a nearby tree.

“Dude there are hunters here!” Stiles whispered. “Where are the others?”

Isaac looked unimpressed, yellow wolf eyes glinting under his blonde mop of curls.

“I’m aware. Boyd and Erica are on a date and not answering. Not sure where Derek is. Or Peter.”

He sounded a little sad, and Stiles felt sorry for him. After his crap father, Isaac deserved a better family than Derek’s dysfunctional pack. Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think. If Scott and Allison were making out with their phones off, Stiles was going to kill them.

“There’s only two, I can handle them,” Isaac said stoutly, flexing his claws.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You have no idea how-“

An arrow sprouted from Isaac’s thigh and he groaned, falling to his knees as that leg collapsed. Stiles started forward to help him, cursing himself for not paying better attention- the hunters must have doubled back. Another arrow thunked into Isaac’s other thigh, and Isaac whimpered. Stiles heard leaves crunching underfoot, and he stood in front of Isaac protectively, wishing he hadn’t left his baseball bat in the car.

“Just go,” he heard Isaac murmur.

Stiles ignored him. He was so going to have words with Derek about his failure to protect his pack next time he saw him. Two men approached, one holding a bow, the other a gun. Stiles watched them warily, his knees shaking a little with adrenalin. Not fear. Adrenalin.

“Well what do we have here?” the hunter with the bow said, cocking his head slightly at Stiles.

He dropped his bow and drew a knife from his belt, approaching the two boys. Isaac growled as the man got close to Stiles. The knife flashed out, and Stiles gasped as it cut a  slice across his cheek. Blood started dripping down his face, and the man grabbed his jaw, turning it to show the other man. Stiles grabbed the man’s wrist, but couldn’t make it budge.

“Yup, he’s human,” the man confirmed, nodding at the gun man. “Why are you protecting the animal?”

“You mean the teenager?” Stiles gritted, still trying to pull the guy’s hand off his face. That grip was going to leave bruises. “I don’t know, why are you trying to kill him? Don’t you guys have a code? Or is that too old-fashioned nowadays?”

Isaac growled again, and the man holding Stiles hefted the knife in his other hand, preparing to throw. Stiles lashed out with his sneakered foot and managed to get the guy in the groin. The grasp on his face dropped and Stiles tried to grab the knife. He was knocked to the ground for his efforts, and the man started kicking Isaac in the face. Stiles started to scramble to his feet, but someone grabbed the back of Stiles’ hoodie and wrenched him up from the ground, an arm pulling the boy against him. Stiles felt cold metal press against his neck and he stopped trying to pull away.

Isaac had passed out, his face a bloody mess. Stiles felt his stomach tighten and cramp with fear as he saw how still the boy was. The man left Isaac and turned to Stiles.

“Where is the alpha?”

Stiles glared at him, trying to ignore his heart beating a million miles an hour.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be in the woods following you.”

The man continued to stare at him consideringly. Stiles didn’t like it.

“Let’s take them both,” the man said finally, addressing the one holding Stiles. “The alpha has to at least care about one of them.”

He turned to Isaac’s body, pulling his wrists together and tying them together with rope. Stiles winced as he saw smoke rising from Isaac’s wrists, guessing the ropes had been soaked in wolfsbane. The man picked up Isaac’s limp body and slung him over his shoulder, stooping to retrieve his crossbow. Stiles was pushed face-first into a nearby tree trunk and his arms pulled behind his back, wrists tied.

“Ow,” Stiles said faintly. “Dude, it’s a bad idea to use us as bait. The alpha isn’t that stupid.”

The man behind him snorted, pulling Stiles off the tree to stumble along in front of him, heading for the Hale house.

“You think we should just kill you then?”

Stiles frowned. “Um, no. Forget I said anything. We’re totally bait. Why do you want the alpha anyway? He hasn’t done anything wrong- haven’t you talked to Argent? He’ll set you straight, you should go talk to him right now, we’ll just wait here-“

The man behind him cuffed him across the back of the head.

“Shut up.”

Sometime later they reached the burnt out shell of the Hale house. Stiles heard Isaac whimper, and begin to stir. The hunter carrying him dumped him on the floor, pulled a container out of his jacket, and started shaking a circle around the hurt werewolf. Stiles didn’t like how prepared the hunters were, with their handy mountain ash. It didn’t bode well.

Stiles was pushed to the floor and held still by the man with the gun while the other man shook the ash in a large circle around Stiles and his captor. The boy noticed that he kept the line out of reach of Stiles’ feet. Damn. The man with the ash stood next to Isaac’s circle and made another small circle around himself.

“That’s not going to keep me in you know,” Stiles remarked to the guy holding him.

The man casually belted Stiles in the face with his gun. Stiles gasped in pain.

“Asshole!”

“It’s not keeping you in, idiot. It’s keeping the alpha out.”

The hunter with the knife grinned.

“And now it’s time to get his attention.”

 He leaned forward into Isaac’s circle, where the boy was trying to open his eyes, half hidden under a crust of dried blood. The arrows were still in Isaac’s legs, and blood ran sluggishly down his jeans. Stiles winced. The hunter stabbed his knife into Isaac’s shoulder, wrenching it out with a twist. Isaac bared his fangs and howled, his cry ringing in Stiles’ ears.

“Leave him alone!” Stiles yelled, trying to move towards the line of ash.

The hunter got behind Stiles and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him to his feet and pressing the gun back to his throat. Stiles growled with frustration, stupid human useless body! He needed to do something, he had to help, Derek couldn’t walk into this-

An answering roar shook the walls of the house, and Derek bounded into the room, all wolfed out, eyes glowing red with fury.

“Stop right there,” the hunter holding Stiles said, grabbing the boy’s hair and digging the gun barrel in further.

Stiles let out a pained hiss, and Derek growled. Slowly, he stood up on two legs, and glared at the hunters. Stiles saw his eyes flick to the mountain ash circles, over to Isaac, back to Stiles.

“Let them go now, and I’ll rip your throats out,” Derek snarled.

The man holding Stiles sniggered.

“Don’t you mean, or?”

Derek stared at him stonily.

“No.”

The man in the circle next to Isaac lifted his crossbow, smirking.

“You’re going to stand there and let me shoot you. Or I will cut the wolf’s eyes out. And my friend over there will blow the human’s face off.”

Derek’s fists clenched, and he growled in frustration. Obviously he hadn’t planned on facing ash circles when he made his dramatic entrance. If Stiles survived this he was going to have to teach Derek some strategy. Derek was not going to die, dammit. His mind raced, trying to think of some way to put the circles out of commission. The hunter started loading a bolt in the crossbow. Crap hurry up Stiles. Suddenly a memory leaped out at him, outside the gay club, pouring out the ash circle, breaking it for Derek. He hadn’t touched it to make it move. Deaton said that he was a spark. Whatever that meant, cryptic bastard. But he had moved the ash without touching it, so he could do it again. Stiles just had to believe, and he could do that, he did it before. He just had to move more than one ash line.

Staring fiercely at the ash in front of him, Stiles tried to add to his mind the picture of the other two circles, the ones holding Isaac and the hunter. The hunter holding him had relaxed a little, the arm around Stiles’ waist holding him lightly. The other hunter lifted his crossbow to aim at Derek.

Stiles tensed, flicking his eyes back up to Derek for a moment, catching his gaze, then looking down at the circles. That was all the prior warning he could give. He heard the “chunk” of the crossbow firing, Stiles concentrated and pictured all the ash lines breaking, pushing them apart in his mind. He felt something surge, saw the ash line in front of him break. Stiles let himself become dead weight and slid to the floor out of the hunter’s grasp. Derek roared, ran and jumped over Stiles, tackling the hunter to the ground. Stiles glanced over to see Isaac falling onto the hunter with the crossbow to the ground, tearing out the guy’s throat with his teeth. Stiles flinched as he felt warm blood spray across his head and guessed that Derek had done the same to the hunter behind him. He wriggled a bit on the ground, pulling against the ropes that still tied his wrists.

“Derek? Can you untie me?”

Stiles’ voice sounded shakier than he had planned. Suddenly Derek was leaning over him, his light green eyes looking searchingly into his face. Stiles’ stomach felt strange all of a sudden. Derek gripped his jaw, staring at the cut on Stiles cheek.

“They hurt you,” he growled.

Stiles tried to shrug.

“I’m okay dude. It’s just a cut, I’m fine. Isaac is worse.”

Derek glanced over to Isaac, where he lay on the ground next to the dead hunter. Isaac met their gaze, giving him a shaky smile.

“I’d give you a thumbs up, but...”

Stiles sniggered.

Abruptly Derek pulled Stiles into a sitting position, and slashed through the rope on his wrists. Stiles brought his arms back around to his front, giving Derek a grateful smile.

“Thanks man.”

Derek gave Stiles a strange look, then moved over to Isaac, pulling the arrows out of his legs and slicing through his bonds. Isaac gasped a little, wincing as the arrows pulled out. Stiles ambled over to join them.

“We should take you to Deaton’s, just in case they were wolfsbane tipped arrows,” Stiles said to Isaac, then realised that Derek was standing a little stiffly, with his hand pressed to his side.

“They were,” Derek replied quietly, blood dripping through his fingers.

“Wait what you’re hurt too!” Stiles exclaimed worriedly, moving closer to Derek. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine, let’s go,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles ignored him and lifted Derek’s shirt to see a hole in his side. Derek growled and pushed his shirt down.

“Stiles!”

Stiles’ phone rang. Which was interesting, as Stiles was sure he had left it in the forest. He looked to Derek.

“Your pants are ringing.”

Derek scowled. “I found it on the way here.”

He pulled Stiles’ phone out of his pocket and handed it over. Stiles looked at the screen before taking the call.

“Buddy! About time you called! Yeah I was just being held captive by hunters, no biggie. Stop turning your phone off so you can make out in peace! Not cool! Derek and Isaac are here, we’re heading over to Deaton’s to fix them up- yeah they’re hurt. No I’m fine. You can come over to the Hale house and bury some hunter bodies for us. Yup. Why don’t you call Chris- have some family bonding time. Hey that was totally funny. Alright I’ll see you later.”

Stiles slipped his phone into his pocket, and pulled Isaac’s arm across his shoulder to help him up. Derek silently supported Isaac’s other side, and they headed to the jeep.

***

Stiles paced the floor of his bedroom, turning a baseball over and over in his hands. He’d finally made it home around 2 am after seeing Deaton, but he couldn’t sleep. A line of tape covered the cut on his cheekbone now, and he had a shower to get rid of all the dirt and blood.

He kept seeing Isaac’s battered face, bearing Deaton’s attention stoically as the vet cleaned it. His eyes brimming with tears as Deaton pressed the burning wolfsbane ashes into the arrow holes. Derek had gripped Isaac’s shoulder, holding him still. The alpha made sure Stiles was checked over first, then Isaac. Derek tended to his own wound, Stiles wincing as the alpha ground the burnt wolfsbane into the hole in his side. Isaac had passed out again by this stage, and Derek carried him out to Stiles’ jeep. Stiles kept trying to talk to Derek on the drive to his loft, but Derek ignored him, apart from a gruff “next time you see hunters Stiles, don’t follow them.”

Stiles’ hands shook, and the ball dropped to the floor. Derek could have died. Isaac could have died. If he hadn’t been there, Isaac would have stayed trapped in that circle. If one of his friends had just answered their fucking phone when he called the whole thing could have been avoided. Stiles ran his long fingers through his hair, tugging it in frustration. Something had to change. No one was communicating with each other, people were being put in danger, surely this wasn’t how a pack was run. He had to fix this.  

Stiles slumped into his computer chair, opened up a new document and began typing feverishly. The current state of the pack was unacceptable. They needed a plan. And if there was one thing Stiles was good at, it was making plans. And talking people into the plans. Okay, so two things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles starts to put his plan into motion.

Stiles stumbled out of bed the next morning, his face throbbing with pain. Luckily (or maybe not so luckily), he was used to being beaten up by now, and had painkillers stashed in his top drawer. A long shower, and he was ready to go. Sitting back down at his computer, he read through all the info he had accumulated last night on pack behaviour. Stiles' google-fu was good, but he wasn’t sure how much of the info was accurate. He couldn’t ask Scott, since Scott knew nothing. Ditto the other betas. Stiles sighed, drumming his fingers against the keyboard. He was going to have to approach Derek. Or Peter. Neither option screamed 'yay!'

He jumped up and went downstairs to grab some breakfast. This kind of decision needed a full stomach. Sun shone through the kitchen window as Stiles waited for his pop tarts to cook. He didn’t need to check the roster on the fridge to know that his Dad was working this weekend- which was great, as he wouldn’t have responded well to Stiles’ bruised and taped up face. Knowing what Stiles did now was good for Stiles, but it didn’t seem to make his Dad any happier.

Mouth full of sugary goodness, Stiles raced back to his bedroom and started printing out the information, then fell on the bed to think. Derek or Peter? Okay, so what if he asked Derek? He’d be grumpy, and may not answer anything. Though what he did answer would probably be the truth. He might resent Stiles interfering in pack business, might forbid him from doing it. Not that it would deter him, but it would be some extra angst to push through. Peter might give him the wrong answer just to fuck with him, plus the creepiness factor. But Peter had a lot of information about stuff- he knew about the kanima, and Derek mentioned that Peter had a laptop of info that Stiles itched to get his hands on. And Peter had more experience at being in a pack, back when he was more sane. Which was hard to imagine.

Stiles made his decision. Pulling out his phone, he sent off a text.

_Need to meet with you and ask some questions. Where can I find you?_

The phone beeped while Stiles was pulling his shoes on.

_Oh really? Interesting. Bring some breakfast with you._

Stiles programmed the address following the message into his phone, and hurried down to the jeep. A short time later, he was knocking on the door of an apartment downtown, juggling coffees and a bag of assorted pastries in his hands.

The door swung open to reveal Peter standing there, dressed in his usual v-neck shirt and long pants. He gave Stiles an unsettling smile.

“Come in,” he offered, standing aside to let Stiles move past him.

The teenager looked around curiously. The apartment was simple, a combined lounge room/dining area, with doors leading off from it. The décor was modern but cosy, with warm toned carpet and walls, a woven rug and sleek maroon-red leather armchairs. Bookshelves were set against any available wall, stuffed full with a variety of books. Stiles dumped his food on the wooden surface of the coffee table, taking a coffee and pastry and settling into one of the armchairs. Peter followed suit, sitting across from Stiles and staring at him. Stiles’ knee jiggled as he sank his teeth into the pastry, dropping flakes all down his shirt. The flakes dropped to the couch cushions and Peter winced.

“So,” Stiles began, his mouth still full of pastry. He wasn’t quite sure how to begin.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Stiles you were the one who wanted to meet me here without anyone else around. I’m intrigued as to what you felt you needed to discuss with me in secret. Have you changed your mind about the bite? My offer still stands.”

Stiles choked on his pastry.

“What? No! I don’t want the bite, I want your brain. I mean I want to pick your brain. And your laptop full of exposition that Derek told me about.”

Peter smirked. “You want my brain AND my laptop?” He looked Stiles up and down. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. As if he wasn’t painfully aware of his own lack of charms.

“Don’t be a creeperwolf. You know the pack isn’t functioning that well, you’re forever letting Derek know. I think if we had a centralised database of information it would help a lot. Do you disagree?”

Peter sighed. “What’s the point of secret meetings if we don’t do anything clandestine?”

He waited for a reaction from Stiles, who just continued staring at him expectantly. Peter took a bite of his pastry.

“Fine, I don’t disagree. You may ask your questions, and borrow my laptop for one week, on the condition that you owe me a favour to be collected at my discretion.”

Stiles’ honey-brown eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“As long as it’s nothing that will hurt the people I know or put them in danger.”

Peter smiled. “Done.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of coffee. “Ask your questions.”

Stiles pulled a notebook and pen out of his hoodie pocket, and gazed at Peter expectantly.

“Okay, first question. Tell me everything you know about pack behaviour and how a healthy pack operates.”

Peter snorted. “Well that will be a long answer.”

Stiles shrugged. “Hence the notebook.” He wiggled it. “You’re the one who keeps saying you can run a pack better than Derek- dazzle me with your wisdom.”

Peter smirked, settling back into his armchair.

“Very well. First of all, a healthy pack are physically comfortable with each other.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “How comfortable?”

“We all need frequent sex to stay connected,” Peter deadpanned.

Stiles’ mind boggled as he considered the logistics of sorting that out.

“I can see why no one’s feeling connected then. You’d need some sort of a spreadsheet to keep track of that...and,”

Peter laughed. “Stiles I’m not serious.”

He leant forward and placed his hand on Stiles’ knee. The boy jumped, and Peter looked amused as he withdrew it.

“That’s about the level of comfortable. It’s not sexual. Touching comforts us, shares our scent with each other and helps us bond. Think of it as post coital snuggles without the coitus.”

“Well thanks for that mental image,” Stiles muttered as he scribbled in his notebook. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to touch Peter, or Jackson. He wondered if that was why Derek kept shoving him into walls.

As the morning crept on, Stiles was surprised to find that Peter was a mine of information and that he seemed willing to share it all with Stiles. His notebook filled up quickly, Peter taking full advantage of his captive audience. Finally Peter slowed down and went to fetch the laptop.

“Thanks dude,” Stiles said, slinging on his bag and taking the laptop from Peter’s hands.

Peter smiled. “I’m interested to see what you’re planning Stiles. For a human, you have a remarkable ability to surprise me.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

Stiles left the apartment with the laptop, a warm feeling of accomplishment lending an extra bounce to his step. He was all over this, their pack was going to be awesome in no time. His phone buzzed as he was loading the laptop into the car.

_Dude, what ru up 2? Wanna hang out?_

Stiles grimaced at Scott’s text-speak, and the invitation. He had a plan for Scott, but it was too early to start- he had all the laptop info to collate first. He sent back a quick reply.

_Sorry bro, need to catch up on some homework. Tonight?_

_Yeah cool._

Stiles dashed into his bedroom, getting the laptop set up and porting files over to his computer. There was an email waiting for him from Lydia.

_Alright Stiles, I can translate it. It will take me a few weeks, and you’ll owe me._

Stiles grinned, sending Lydia the entire Bestiary file. Thank god for Lydia’s ability to translate ancient Latin. Stiles pulled his phone out and rang Danny.

“Yeah?” Danny’s voice sounded suspicious.

“Hey buddy, it’s Stiles, just wanted to ask a favour. Can you walk me through setting up a database?”

There was a considering silence on the other end.

“Why do you need a database?”

“Um...I just have a bunch of info I need to organise.”

“It’s a bit complicated to explain over the phone. I guess I could come over if it was really important.”

“No!” Stiles squeaked. “Uh, I mean, you don’t need to do that. Just give me some basics.”

Danny sighed.

“This is werewolf stuff, isn’t it.”

Stiles squeaked and dropped the phone. Crap. That was real smooth. Hastily he grabbed it off the floor and held it back to his ear.

“Ah Danny, sorry the phone slipped. How did, I mean what?”

“Stiles, it’s Beacon Hills. I’m not stupid.” Danny sounded amused.

Stiles sighed. “Fine, I just...ugh come over if you want.”

“You’re the one that called me, needing help,” Danny pointed out, before hanging up.

 Stiles stood frozen for a moment, before ringing Scott.

“Dude, Danny knows.”

There was silence as Stiles waited for Scott to make the right connections.

“Duuuude. He knows?”

“He knows, buddy.”

“What did you say?”

Stiles spluttered. “I didn’t say anything! He already knew!”

“It’s good he knows though, yeah? Danny’s cool.”

Stiles grinned at Scott’s optimism. “Yeah you know what, you’re right. Danny’s smart. Not that I care about Jackson’s feelings, but it’ll be good for him to have someone he can talk to about the supernatural stuff.”

Scott made a pleased noise. “That’s right. Now we both have our best friends to talk to!”

Stiles chuckled. “Ok dude, I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up, his stomach growled. Stiles hurtled downstairs to the kitchen to make up a plate of sandwiches for lunch, he figured Danny would appreciate them too. He heard the knock on the door as he pulled some sodas out of the fridge. Stiles ran to open the front door.

“Hey man, I’ve got some lunch, if you want to help me carry it upstairs.”

Danny smiled, dimples showing, and Stiles was again reminded of what a good-looking guy he was.

“Sure.”

Stiles stuck the plate on his desk, and Danny handed him a soda. Stiles slumped into his computer chair, pushing the other one with his foot.

“Sit down man, I guess we should address the wolf in the room?”

Danny sat, looking amused.

“Jackson and Scott are werewolves, yeah? What else do I need to know?”

Stiles shook his head. He really had been underestimating Danny’s intelligence.

“So are Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Miguel, who isn’t my cousin by the way, he’s Derek.”

Danny laughed. “Well the way you looked at him when he took his shirt off made it clear he wasn’t your cousin.”

Stiles choked on his sandwich. “What?! I wasn’t looking! He’s...he’s grumpy. And socially challenged. And way too eager to do violence to my person!”

Danny smirked. “Ever wonder why that is?”

Stiles scowled, and ignored the comment. Danny didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Look dude, how involved do you want to be in this whole supernatural thing? You can just walk me through the database setup, or I can tell you what’s going on.”

Danny met his gaze calmly.

“I’ve been thinking about it, ever since I figured out my best friend was a werewolf. And he was something else for a while too, wasn’t he? I was just keeping my head down, and trying to survive high school, you know? But Jackson was going through all this shit, and he couldn’t talk to me about it because I was too busy looking after my own skin. And that was a dick move on my part. So yeah, I want in Stiles. I want all in.”

Stiles grinned. “Welcome to the pack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Teen Wolf tumblr now, so you can find me at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sparkofstiles


	3. Chapter 3

Danny not only helped Stiles set up the database, he volunteered to input the data from the Bestiary. Stiles jumped at the chance to do a little less data entry, assuring Danny that he’d send him each page as Lydia translated it. A few hours later, Danny stood up to leave.

“Don’t tell Jackson I know yet, I want to be the one to tell him.”

“Worried about how he’ll react?”

Danny laughed. “No, I just want to see his face when he realises I’ve been keeping a secret from him for a change.”

“Tonight!” Stiles blurted. “We’ll have a movie night at my house, invite the pack. You could tell him then?”

Danny’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at Stiles.

“You just come up with that?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, kinda? It was in the plan, I’m just moving it forward.”

Danny shrugged. “Sounds good. See you then.”

Stiles pondered his next move. Movie night sounded easy, but getting all the pack to agree to come was the tricky part. He’d best start with the easiest guy.

Scott was still home, and answered the door with a grin.

“Dude! How did it go with Danny?”

Stiles smiled, and walked in, heading up to Scott’s room.

“Awesome. Danny’s on board, wants in on our pack stuff. You can’t tell Jackson yet though. Danny’s gonna tell him at movie night, which is tonight so you have to come, and bring Allison.”

Scott frowned, plonking down on his bed while Stiles slid into a nearby computer chair.

“So is it a pack thing? Will Derek be there?”

Stiles sighed inwardly. He knew Derek would be Scott’s sticking point. Well too bad. Time to be tough love Stiles.

“I hope so, I’m asking him next. Everyone is coming, ‘cos we need to hang out as a pack and work through some stuff. And don’t give me that frowny face dude, you did a shit thing to Derek, and avoiding him isn’t going to fix anything.”

Scott looked shocked, and annoyed.

“I SAVED us Stiles, if I hadn’t done that, Gerard would have won. He would have killed us. He beat you up, he was willing to kill Allison, he...”

“Yeah and you’ve never asked how I was after getting kidnapped and beaten up,” Stiles pointed, unable to stop some bitterness seeping into his tone. “But this isn’t about Gerard. Derek has done nothing but try to help and protect you, and you repaid him by lying to him, and forcing him to give his enemy the bite against his will. That isn’t cool Scott. Derek just keeps getting hurt over and over and he still sticks around and tries to help, and you should be grateful!”

Stiles stops short, his heart thumping too fast and his eyes hot with unshed tears. That was way past what he’d meant to say. That anger had just come out of nowhere. Scott’s puppy eyes were huge and shocked, his hand half outstretched towards Stiles.

“Stiles, I...I’m sorry. I never meant to...I care about you. I’ve been a crap friend.”

Stiles sighed, his body slumping. “Yeah, you have. But I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I’m sorry.”

Scott looked uncomfortable. “Maybe... maybe you’re right about Derek. I’ll come to movie night, ok? I’ll try to bring Allison.”

Stiles nods, and stands up. “Well I’ve got a few stops to make, so I’d better...”

Scott jumped up and caught Stiles up in a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles relaxed a little. Scott always gave good hugs. “It’s ok man.”  

Back in the jeep, Stiles sat for a bit, still reeling from that conversation. He needed to be calm in order to talk to Derek. He sat there long enough to realise that he was entering the avoidance stage. Stiles sighed. He had no idea how this conversation was going to go. But he had to try. Derek needed them, even if he would never admit it. If he could get Derek to agree to go, he’d make sure his betas would too. Lydia would agree once he explained it, and she’d bring Jackson. Stiles didn’t know if Peter would even want to attend, but he wasn’t sure if he cared to try. Best to get the pack working functionally before they added in a murdering psychopath who liked to push people’s buttons.

“Just start the car,” Stiles muttered to himself.

*          *            *

Stiles knocked on the large sliding door to Derek’s loft, palms sweaty with nervousness. The door pulled open to reveal Isaac, who stared at Stiles curiously.

“Hi man, you’re looking better,” Stiles said, walking past Isaac into the room.

Isaac smirked. “I’m a werewolf,” he replied, as if that answered the question. Stiles realised that yeah, it kind of did.

Derek was sprawled out on the couch, reading a book, looking none the worse from last night’s encounter. He was wearing a deep green sweater, and his dark hair was all rumpled. Stiles stared, until Derek looked up and captured his gaze with his green eyes.

“Are you here for a reason?”

“Um.  I mean yes! Totally here for a reason dude, you guys have to come to our movie night, at my house, everyone’s gonna be there and there’s gonna be snacks and a movie and like a group hang you know, you guys don’t have a tv here so it must really suck and, um yeah. You have to come.”

Isaac looked pleased. “Ok. Are Boyd and Erica invited too?”

“Absolutely yes. Tell them.”

Stiles went back to staring at Derek, willing him to answer. Derek sat up and closed his book, not looking at Stiles. Stiles’ heart sank.

“A movie night, did you say? Why Stiles, I’d be delighted to come.”

Stiles looked up at the new voice, and saw Peter making his way down the stairs. Stiles frowned at Peter, who smirked back. He reached the living room floor and moved closer to Stiles, looking him up and down.

“At your house, I assume? You’ll have a lot of couples attending- you can sit with me if you get lonely.”

Stiles barely had time to roll his eyes at Peter before Derek growled, and rose to stand beside Peter.

“I’ll be there,” he grated, glaring at his uncle.

Stiles grinned. “Excellent! I will see you all later!”

He got out of there before he said or did something to mess it up and collapsed into his jeep. Stiles was so sure Derek was about to say no, he saw it in his eyebrows. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly agreed, but he wasn’t going to question it. One more thing left on his list for today before he went shopping for snacks for movie night. Stiles started the car, and headed for the Argent’s house.

Shifting from foot to foot, Stiles knocked on the Argent’s front door. If he’d timed this correctly, Allison would be with Scott, and Mr Argent would be home alone. The door opened to reveal Chris, who narrowed his eyes at Stiles suspiciously.

“Allison isn’t here,” he said slowly.

Stiles grinned nervously. “I know! I want to talk to you!”

Chris looked at him for a moment, before drawing back and letting Stiles walk inside. Stiles was pretty sure he heard a weary sigh as he headed past Chris to the living room, but he chose to ignore it. Stiles reached the living room, turned and faced the older man.

“Okay, so you need to explain to me why there were hunters in town last night.”

Chris frowned. “What?”

“It’s a simple question. Mr Argent.”

Stiles struggled not to fidget. He needed Mr Argent to take him seriously. Derek wasn’t going to voluntarily talk to him, and Chris was prone to violent reactions when it came to Scott. He might accept that Allison was dating Scott, but he didn’t like it.

“I didn’t know there were hunters here Stiles,” Chris admitted reluctantly. “Did something happen?”

“I nearly died, Isaac nearly died, Derek nearly died,” Stiles counted them off on his fingers. “So- not cool. If there are hunters in town, we’d appreciate a heads-up. Is it normal for hunters to rock up to Beacon Hills and not let you know?”

Chris was still frowning. “No. Hunters in another hunter’s territory should check in. They should have dropped by.”

“I’m guessing that isn’t a good sign then,” Stiles remarked.

Chris scrubbed a hand through his short hair. He looked tired.

“No it’s not. It’s possible that they don’t think I’m doing enough to keep the werewolves in check, and if they think I’m weak they might try and move in. Or they could have been hunters gone rogue. I’ll make some calls, see if I can find out anything.”

“And you’ll let me know what you find out,” Stiles prompted.

Chris sighed. “Stiles, you’re a sixteen year old kid. This isn’t your problem.”

“My friends, my problem,” Stiles said stubbornly.

He held his hand out. “I need your number, so I can call you if this happens again. And if I don’t hear back from you about this, I’ll come back.”

Chris Argent stared at Stiles like he was seeing him for the first time. Shaking his head, he pulled out his phone and handed it to Stiles, who programmed his number in and handed it back.

“Ok Mr Argent, I’ll be seeing ya,” Stiles turned to leave and tripped on the corner of the rug, thankfully collecting himself before he hit the floor. “Real smooth Stiles,” he muttered to himself as he headed back to his jeep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just posted a new Teen Wolf fic if any of you are interested. I wrote it for Sterek Week, AltEra: Stiles the Werewolf Slayer. It was fun. ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's movie night at Stiles' house! Pack fun times ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to get out a chapter before Christmas- just made it! Enjoy. :-)

Stiles realised that his lounge room was a mess and he had no snacks in the house, so after giving it a cursory tidy, he drove to the shops to pick up some essentials. Popcorn, caramel popcorn, corn chips and salsa, carrot sticks and hummus, chocolate in various forms, ice cream and soda all landed in his trolley, Stiles making a mental note to get the pack to chip in next time. This stuff was expensive. As he carried his bags back out to the jeep, Stiles felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Dumping the bags in the backseat, he tried to look around without seeming too obvious.  

He couldn’t see anything much. The car park was starting to fill with shoppers, the light was fading into evening and nothing stood out as strange. Stiles wished he had werewolf level senses. Not the furry part though. Quickly he unlocked the jeep and jumped in, locking the doors. Sadly, this reaction was becoming automatic. Stiles considered ringing Scott, but decided against it. What was he going to say? I felt weird like someone was watching me? No, nothing happened. Stiles shrugged, and decided to think about it later. Right now, he had a movie night to get home to.

*          *          *

The knock on the door came as Stiles was in the kitchen.

“It’s open!” he yelled, opening the packet of corn chips and shaking them onto the plate with the salsa.

“You have a lovely home, Stiles,” came Peter’s voice from the kitchen doorway, making Stiles jump.

He turned to see Peter strolling through the doorway, followed by Derek. Peter looked around the kitchen, saw what Stiles was doing, and said, “I’ll go peruse your books, shall I?”

Stiles shrugged. “Whatever, man.”

Peter left, and Derek stepped awkwardly into the room. Stiles tossed him a packet of chocolate.

“Here dude, put this out on that plate for me.”

Derek obeyed, and then moved over to the carrots on the chopping board.

“Sticks?”

“Um, yeah,” Stiles said, staring at Derek handle the kitchen knife.

Derek looked up at Stiles. “What?”

“Nothing, just you...can chop stuff pretty well. Do you cook much?”

Derek smirked. “What do you think I do Stiles, catch rabbits? I can cook.”

“So you cook the rabbits then?” Stiles deadpanned.

Derek huffed a laugh. “So what are we watching tonight?”

Stiles grinned. “Thanks to a promise that Scott made, and that I’ll hold him to- Star Wars.”

“Oh, the Phantom Menace? I like that one,” Derek said.

Stiles gasped theatrically. “You what?! First of all, you like Star Wars?! Second of all, what the hell dude?! How could you say that! Original trilogy or nothing man! How can you-“

Derek snickered, and Stiles stopped.

“Wait what? You were joking weren’t you? You just made a joke. YOU made a joke. What.”

Derek huffed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“Did I break you?”

Stiles grinned back, feeling his face warm. “Nope, no you’d have to try harder than that. Sourwolf is a nerd, huh? I love it.”

His nerves fizzing for some unknown reason, Stiles grabbed the plate of chips and walked to the TV room. Derek followed him with the carrots and dip. Peter was sprawled in the best armchair, reading a book. He looked up as Stiles entered, and said:

“Your other friends are arriving,” a moment before the doorbell rang.

Danny came in first, with several pizza boxes. Stiles gasped.

“Pizza! I love you dude!”

Danny laughed.

“Always thought you’d be easy, Stilinski.”

He looked past Stiles, and stopped. Stiles turned to see Derek scowling at Danny. Stiles nudged Derek in the bicep as he placed the snacks on the table.

“Cut it out, he’s friendly. Danny, you know Mi-ah-Derek. The other guy is Peter, Derek’s uncle. Both werewolves. Don’t trust Peter.”

Peter smirked. “Stiles, I’m hurt.”

Stiles looked unrepentant.

“Dude!”

Scott barrelled in the door, quickly followed by Allison. They both smiled nervously at Derek, and more genuinely at Danny. Scott side-eyed Peter, and shot an inquiring glance at Stiles. Stiles shrugged, and started opening the pizza boxes. Pizza was a good ice-breaker.

“Pizza time!” Stiles said cheerfully, grabbing some big slices of pepperoni.

The others followed suit, falling into various seats. Lydia stalked in the door, followed by Jackson, who had a sour look on his face. She glared stonily at Peter for a moment, then ignored him to head for the pizza. Jackson suddenly noticed Danny on the couch, and stopped short. Danny grinned, and waved.

“Hi man.”

Jackson shot a quick glance at the group, who all stared back innocently (except Peter, who had never looked innocent in his life).

“Hi,” Jackson said back weakly, his shoulders tense.

Erica, Boyd and Isaac walked into the room, taking the focus off Jackson for the moment.

“Pizza!” Erica crowed, heading for the table, Boyd following in her wake.

Isaac looked for Derek, and after finding him, moved to the pizza. He shot a quick glance at Allison and Scott as he passed. Stiles picked up his last slice and looked around for a place to sit.

“You can sit here,” Peter offered, patting the arm of his chair.

Stiles looked at him strangely. What was the guy up to? He heard a low growl, and looked at Derek, who was making space on the one of the couches, forcing Isaac, Danny and Boyd to inch up. Stiles shrugged, and headed over to Derek. He’d rather sit with Sourwolf than Creeperwolf. He slid between Derek and the arm of the couch. A little squashy, but not too bad. Derek’s thigh was pressed up against his. Stiles jiggled his leg nervously.

“You do this often?” Danny asked Jackson, who was squeezed on the other couch with Lydia and Erica.

Erica and Lydia were discussing make-up, and Lydia was informing Erica of the chemical breakdown and side effects of the popular brands.  

“Um..” Jackson said intelligently.

“We just started, but I’m thinking about doing them monthly,” Stiles interjected.

Danny grinned. “Oh right, so every full moon?”

“What?!” Jackson spluttered.

“That’s every month, right?” Danny said, smiling.

“Um, yeah I guess,” Jackson said, his voice cracking. “So who invited you?”

Danny paused, making Jackson wait. “Well, that’s really my business.”

Stiles stared at Jackson and Danny, taking notes. He’d never seen Jackson so thrown. Danny was doing great.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Jackson, a note of outrage seeping into his tone.

“Nope, guess it’ll be my secret. Does that piss you off? Must be hard, having a secret you don’t tell anyone about.”

Jackson just stared at Danny, speechless. Stiles snickered. This was gold. Finally soft-hearted Scott caved.

“Dude?” he appealed, giving Danny his best puppy-dog eyes.

Danny sighed. “Fine. Jackson I know you’re a werewolf.”

Jackson’s pizza slice dropped to the floor, and he sat, frozen in his seat, with his mouth open in a most unattractive way. Stiles started chortling. He shot a quick glance at Derek, and saw him trying to hide a smile. Oh yesss dinner-time entertainment pulled through. Erica and Isaac were full-out laughing. Lydia tried to look concerned, but broke into a smile when Jackson wasn’t looking at her. Peter had his bored face on, but Stiles could see an amused glint in his eyes. Danny grinned at Jackson.

“C’mon dude, you know I’d have to give you some kind of payback for hiding it from me for so long. I was getting sick of pretending I didn’t know.”

 Jackson pouted. “You owe me another slice of pizza,” he muttered.

Danny fetched him another slice. Scott beamed at Danny.

“Welcome to the pack dude! Happy to have you and your mad computer skills on the team.”

Stiles gave Scott a grateful smile for acting like they were a cohesive team. Fake it til you make it, right?

“Alright settle down, it’s movie time!” he ordered, grabbing the remote and starting A New Hope.

Jackson groaned. “Ugh a nerd movie.”

“I know you wanted to watch The Notebook, but you’ll just have to contain your disappointment,” Stiles snarked.

Isaac sniggered, and Jackson subsided into a sulk.

As night went on, many of the wolves migrated to the floor. Boyd and Erica leant back against the couch, Erica sitting in Boyd’s lap. Lydia and Jackson snuggled on the couch. Danny sat on their couch too, on the end next to Peter’s armchair. Every now and then he and Peter would talk quietly about the movie. Allison and Scott migrated to the couch, with Isaac leaning on them (which Stiles found interesting). Stiles was still pressed against Derek’s side, and had noticed Derek’s body slowly relaxing after the end of the first movie. Maybe Peter was right about the pack touching thing. Stiles decided to contribute. He snuggled into Derek’s chest, lifting his arm and putting it round him. Derek looked down, startled.

“What? You’re comfy,” Stiles whispered.

Derek said nothing, but left his arm where Stiles had placed it, his fingers curled and resting on Stiles’ hip. Stiles felt a weird pang, along with some flutters in his stomach. Derek’s muscles were firm against his cheek, and Derek’s body heat radiated through the soft t-shirt he was wearing. Stiles felt strangely secure and comforted with Derek’s arm around him. Huh. Peter was definitely right about pack touching.

By the time the second movie finished, everyone seemed to relax. Jackson was engrossed in the trilogy and trying not to show it. Erica was braiding Lydia’s hair. Allison and Isaac were having a whispered discussion about whether bows were better than the laser pistols used in the movie. Scott snuggled between them, looking content. Boyd and Danny were parked on either side of Peter’s armchair, discussing which side they would have been on. Peter was offering suggestions on how Darth Vader could have improved his plan of attack.  Derek kept murmuring witty comments on the movie in Stiles’ ear, making him shiver (and chuckle). He didn’t realise Derek could be so funny.

By the end of the third movie, Stiles was asleep, mouth open, drooling a little on Derek’s t-shirt. The others stood up, and helped tidy up the TV room. Scott looked at Stiles, then at Derek.

“You need help with, ah-“

“I’ve got it,” Derek replied quietly.

Scott nodded, and smiled at Derek. He seemed to be warming up a little, Derek thought. He was expecting Scott to insist that he take Stiles up to bed. The rest of the pack filed out. Peter stood and looked down at sleeping boy, a predatory smile on his lips.

“I’ve got it Peter. Go home.”

Peter smirked, and headed for the door.

“Remember he’s underage, Nephew,” came his parting remark.

Derek snorted. As if he would take advantage of Stiles. Though the kid was hard to say no to- working himself up to saying no to movie night was a lot harder than he had expected. If Peter hadn’t tried to make a claim on Stiles he would have said no. Probably. He hated to admit it, but the movie night had been a good idea. They felt more like pack tonight than they ever had. Derek had given up trying, he saw that now. He looked down at Stiles, still drooling on his shirt. Long dark eyelashes touching the tops of those cheekbones, long clever fingers bunched in the t-shirt over his stomach. Derek smoothed Stiles’ hair back from his forehead absently. The boy didn’t even stir.

Carefully, Derek gathered Stiles in his arms and rose from the couch. Carrying him up the stairs, he headed for the door where Stiles’ scent was the strongest. Entering Stiles’ room, he laid Stiles on the bed. He had to work at untangling Stiles’ fingers from his shirt. Stiles murmured something unintelligible, turning into his pillow. Derek smiled, and let himself out quietly through the window.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles needs answers. Deaton gets a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys, my Masters degree has been stealing my writing mojo. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Stiles awoke to the shrill noise of his ringtone. Fumbling on his bedside table, he realised it wasn’t there. And that he was still completely dressed. Oh. Reaching into his back pocket, he put the phone to his ear.

“What?” Stiles muttered sleepily.

“Dude!”

“Scott man it’s too early.”

Stiles sat up, wondering how he got in bed.

“I was checking you were okay!”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay? Wait, what happened last night?”

Last thing Stiles remembered was watching Star Wars.

“You fell asleep on Derek and he carried you to bed.”

Stiles concentrated on not dropping the phone as he took in this new information. That explained the still being dressed.

“Stiles? Stiles!”

“I didn’t drool on him did I?” Stiles asked suddenly, thinking of all the ways he could have embarrassed himself.

“That’s all that you’re worried about?”

Stiles shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re worried about dude. I woke up, still intact. Why you would think otherwise is beyond me.” He frowned. “Wait a minute. You let Derek take me to bed, even though you thought I wouldn’t be safe. Either you trust him or you don’t, you can’t have it both ways.”

“I didn’t, I mean, I would never put you in danger on purpose Stiles!” Scott said earnestly. “I just wanted to check.”

“Aha so you do trust Derek a little bit!” Stiles crowed.

Scott made a non-committal noise.  
“Why were you like, cuddling him last night?”

Stiles smirked. Time for some education.

“Scotty, let me explain to you a thing called pack touching.”

After Stiles’ explanation, Scott was silent for a moment.

“Ooooh. That explains why it was so comfy sitting with Isaac last night!”

Stiles held in a snigger. He was pretty sure there was something else going on there.  
“Sure buddy. Anyway, you woke me up, so…”

“Oh right. Ok I guess I’ll see you later?”

Stiles ended the call and clambered out of bed. Stripping off his clothes, he headed for the shower. He needed to be alert for the next part of his plan.

The jeep pulled up outside of the vet clinic, Stiles tapping his fingers against the wheel as he thought over what he was going to say. That was a lie. He didn’t know what he was going to say, he just knew what he wanted, and given that this was the last day before school went back, Stiles just needed to man up and do it.

Pulling in a steadying breath, Stiles flung open the door and walked inside the clinic. Thankfully, it was empty.

Deaton poked his head out.

“Stiles? What can I do for you?”

“We need to talk,” Stiles said quickly, moving through to the back. Deaton held the door open and let Stiles past, his face showing nothing, as usual.  

Stiles turned to face him.

“I want, no I need to know. You said I was a spark. What does that mean and how can I use it? I did something to the ash circles the other night with those hunters, you know I did. Why haven’t you said anything? What do you know?”

Deaton’s face stayed deadpan.  
“It was unusual that one of the hunters could make an ash circle, you know. He must have some kind of magic user.”

Stiles waved his hands at Deaton in frustration.

“Stop changing the subject! Tell me about sparks! What kind of helpful druid guy are you?!”

“Druids help keep the balance Stiles,” Deaton intoned, his dark eyes looking amused.

Stiles stepped in close, hands clenched in frustration, and looked fiercely into Deaton’s dark eyes.

“It’s not going to work. I’m not leaving until you tell me. I am a Spark, and you’re going to tell me how I can use my powers! Dude, you do not want me to try stuff out on my own, ‘cos I will. And I’ll probably accidentally raise a fear demon. Or zombie cats. Or some kinda dancing demon that burns people. Or-”

“-all right Stiles.” Deaton smiled in a particularly annoying way. “I had to make sure you were serious, and that you were firm in your belief. Your powers work from belief, your will fuels it. You needed to be determined to pursue it further.”

Stiles pursed his lips, looking suspicious.  
“Sounds a lot more like you were just trying to get me to jump through some hoops. You’re not the holder and dispenser of all knowledge you know. You shouldn’t try to hoard it.”

Deaton ignored him, turning to a locked cupboard on the far wall. Pulling out an old, leather-bound book, he handed it to Stiles.

“This is a collected work of all the Druids know about Sparks. Read it.”

Stiles took the heavy book, trying to hide his excitement. Yessss actual information! Research! He’s going to be a magical bad-ass!

“Thanks. I’ll be back with questions soon.”

Deaton sighed. “I know.”

Stiles raced back to the jeep, book in hand. He couldn’t wait to get home and start reading. A prickle ran across his back and shoulders and he wriggled as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest. This feeling again. He didn’t like it. Once again, he couldn’t see anyone or anything, but he felt like he was being watched. Internally shrugging, he started the jeep and headed for home. Maybe next time it happened and Scotty was around he’d get him to do some sniffing.

*    *    *

The first few days at school passed by slowly. Stiles studied the Spark book every night as well as doing homework, and the more he read it, the more frustrated he became. The book was an account of Sparks that the druids had encountered over the decades, and was frustratingly vague. The Sparks didn’t seem to have any common abilities, apart from the one that sensed danger to themselves or others close to them. Stiles renamed that ability “spidey-sense”, and raved excitedly on the phone to Scott about it. Which may explain the tickly feeling. Stiles wasn’t sure.

One school night found Stiles at his computer. Placing the Spark book down on his desk, Stiles entered some more notes. Once he had finished the book, Deaton was going to answer some of these questions.  

Suddenly his bedroom window pulled up, and Stiles flailed and fell off his chair as Derek hopped smoothly over the window sill.

“Dude! You could’ve knocked on the glass or something first!”

Derek smirked, standing over Stiles on the floor.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, and rose to sit back on the computer chair.

“So what is it?”

Derek’s smirk turned into a frown.

“Scott said you were in danger.”

Stiles laughed. “Not exactly. Apparently I can sense danger now. My own spidey sense which is so cool man you don’t even know. So I’ve been getting this prickly feeling, like I’m being watched. But no danger happens, so I’m not sure.”

Derek’s frown turned thoughtful.

“I thought you did something to those ash circles that night. Are you a druid too?”

Stiles shook his head enthusiastically.

“No way, not like those vaguey guys at all. Apparently I’m called a Spark. And that’s all I know since this book isn’t really helping.”

Derek looked at the book Stiles had on the desk.

“Deaton gave it to you?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, but the thing is, no Spark seems to have the same abilities. I can’t figure out a pattern.”

“Maybe there isn’t one,” Derek offered, pulling a chair over to the desk and picking up the book. “Maybe the magic is different for each person.”

Stiles looked thoughtful. “That’s an interesting idea. Deaton said it was powered by my will, and I guess each person’s will is different.”

Derek shrugged. “Show me what you have so far.”

For the next few hours, Stiles showed and talked and Derek looked through the book, offering his own suggestions. Stiles couldn’t believe it. This was Derek from movie night again, being all intelligent and cool and interesting and stuff. He was good company. Stiles kind of missed the snuggling part from movie night. He guessed that the pack touching thing was in effect. Makes sense that once they started touching, the pack bond would want it continued. Stiles racked his brain trying to think of a pack touching thing he could do that didn’t seem weird. After a while, Stiles stretched theatrically, not having to fake a grimace as his neck twinged. He did spend a lot of time hunched over his computer.

“Derek my neck is killing me. Any chance you could massage some of the knots out?”

Derek looked at him strangely, but Stiles knew he wouldn’t have heard a lie ‘cos his neck really did hurt. Finally the wolf sighed.

“Fine.”

Stiles sat up straighter in his chair as Derek moved behind him and started kneading his shoulders. His hands were strong and warm, Stiles could feel their warmth through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt. Derek attacked the knots in his shoulders with skill, and Stiles let out a happy sigh.

“You’re really good at this.”

“I used to do it for my Mum sometimes,” came the quiet reply.

Stiles wasn’t sure how to react. Derek was sharing something personal with him, he didn’t want to mess up.

“I bet she appreciated it,” Stiles replied just as quietly.

Derek didn’t comment, but he didn’t stop with the massage. Stiles was feeling so relaxed he was surprised he hadn’t yet slid off his chair. Then Derek’s capable hands moved up to his neck and Stiles entered a whole new world of sensations. He managed to keep the “omg Derek don’t stop so good” to himself, but to his embarrassment, out slipped a loud moan. Derek’s hands stuttered across his skin, but he didn’t stop rubbing his hands across Stiles’ skin and pressing firmly into his neck muscles. Stiles tried to go along with the non-reaction, but another moan burst out when Derek hit a sweet spot. His phone began ringing, and as Stiles grabbed it off the desk, Derek headed for the window.

“I’ll just…ah see you later,” he mumbled, his voice strangely husky.

Stiles gave him a wave as he put the phone to his ear, thankful to be saved from further embarrassment by Chris Argent.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been looking into those hunters,” Chris began, his tone reluctant.

“What do you know?” Stiles said, trying to sound all adult and professional.

“The good news, is that they’re not official. The hunter community isn’t challenging my territory. They’re rogue hunters.”

“And the bad?”

“There were more than three of them.”

“Well, crap.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- this chapter has a cliffhanger ending (so if that stresses you out too much, you might want to wait for the next update). :-)

Stiles slept uneasily that night. There was no obvious reason to suggest that the hunters were after him, there were no hunters left alive from the last encounter to tell on him, but that didn’t explain away his spidey-sense tingling occurrences. He couldn’t even do an ash-circle to keep them out. He’d let Scott and Derek know the news via text. Scott had immediately suggested he come over, but Stiles wasn’t in the mood for his company. He wasn’t sure why. Derek had sent back a “Thanks for letting me know” reply and nothing else, which left Stiles feeling miffed. He’d rated a window climb through at the first hint of danger and now nothing?

He tossed and turned, dozed and woke, and finally got up at 6am. Padding over to the window, he pulled it up, and was startled by a rustle in the oak tree nearby. Stiles strained blurry eyes, and huffed a laugh.

“Have you been out there all night?”

Isaac scowled, running a hand through messy curls.  
“No, Derek was here most of the night.”

Stiles beamed, feeling happier all of a sudden.

Isaac yawned.  
“I’m catching a lift with you to school. Got some breakfast?”

Stiles nodded.  
“Yeah, I can cook something. Come in the front door.”

The Sheriff didn’t bat an eye at Isaac appearing- he was used to it by now. Stiles explained the new development over breakfast, carefully not mentioning the danger involved, but his Dad didn’t miss much. He glanced at Isaac.

“You all keeping an eye on him then?”

Isaac nodded, mouth full of bacon.

“Chris- ah Mr Argent is on alert too. He said he’d come down to the station and let you know details.”

“Alright then, I’d better go. Take care, son. You too Isaac.”

Isaac looked surprised. Stiles hid a smile.

Free breakfast didn’t dissuade Isaac from sassing Stiles’ jeep, and they snarked companionably all the way to school. Stiles was quick to notice that there was either Scott or Isaac with him all the time. Allison seemed to be sticking with Lydia and Jackson. He texted Erica.

Stiles:  You have someone with Derek, right?  
             The hunters were after him, not me.

Erica:  Boyd’s staying home today.  
             I’m sure Derek would appreciate your concern. ;-)

Stiles rolled his eyes, and adjusted his heavy backpack. Heavy, as Peter’s laptop was inside. It was the last school day of the week, and he had copied all the information he needed. Time to return it, but he needed to do it without his guard. Peter hadn’t said he could share where he lived with others, and he didn’t want to piss Peter off while he was trying to improve pack relations. A text sent during lunch break ensured that Peter would be home after school was out. Stiles waited until the final bell rang, and he and Scott had reached the car park. Stiles suddenly face-palmed.

“Crap!”

Scott looked worried. “What is it?”

“I totally forgot my chem textbook from last period. Harris will bite my head off if I try to get it back.”

Scott smiled. “Dude, it’s fine. He hates me a bit less, I’ll get it for you. Wait here.”

“Thanks buddy!” Stiles smiled brightly, waiting for Scott to leave.

He drove quickly out of the car park, heading straight for Peter’s. He’d text an apology later. It was an easy drive to Peter’s, Stiles parking right out front. He still had trouble with Peter living in an actual house. It should be a lair or something. Walking up to the front door, Stiles’ back started to prickle. Hunching a bit, he knocked sharply on the door, his sense of something wrong getting stronger. The door swung open, and Peter stood in the doorway. Stiles gasped as the warning prickles shot up to a painful whine, and he didn’t think, just acted. He fell into Peter, trying to pull him down at the same time he heard a sharp cracking noise. Peter grabbed him, looking down at Stiles’ arm with an alarmed look on his face. Stiles had a second to think ‘huh, he’s acting like I got shot’ and suddenly his arm was on fire and he was collapsing on Peter for real.

“Shit!”

Another shot rang out.

Peter moved quickly, taking Stiles’ weight and pulling him through the doorway while slamming the door shut with his foot. Holding him up with one arm round Stiles’ waist, he slipped the backpack off his arms. Stiles whimpered as the strap caught his sore arm. Peter lay him down gently on the floor.

“Stiles you idiot,” Peter hissed, pulling off his shirt and pressing it to Stiles’ arm.

Stiles gasped in pain at the pressure, but was still thinking.

“They might come in.”

“I can hear them- they got into a vehicle and drove away,” Peter informed him, grabbing something soft and pressing it on and around Stiles’ leg.

Stiles didn’t realise there was a problem with his leg too.

“I’m a werewolf, I can handle some bullets. What were you thinking? And how did you know ahead of time?” Peter demanded, keeping a hand pressed to Stiles’ leg while pulling his phone out of his pocket with the other.

“Hunters. I can handle their wolfsbane better than you. I …have spidey sense now it’s a thing.”

Stiles drew in a shaky breath, trying not to set off a panic attack. Everything hurt so much.  

“Derek. Stiles is hurt. Shot. Yeah, hunters. Just get here! Bring Deaton to my place.”

Stiles heard Peter rattle off the address. Huh, so Derek didn’t know where Peter lived before.

“Your laptop is in my bag, you should get it out.”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yes that’s the first thing I should do.”

Now the phone call was done, he had a hand on each of Stiles’ wounds, applying pressure.

“I guess I owe you a favour now,” Peter continued, looking down at Stiles and shaking his head.

Stiles was feeling dizzy and sick, but the word favour stuck in his head. There was something on his list for that, in case of Peter.

“Yes you do. So I’m calling it in now. You have to promise…to apologise to Lydia.”

Stiles shivered, and tried to keep his last meal down.

“What?”

It was hard to concentrate with the pain shooting up his arm and leg every time he or Peter moved even a little bit. But Stiles was stubborn.

“Apologise for all the crap you put her through. Sincerely, you have to actually mean it.”

“Alright Stiles. Assuming you live through this.”

Stiles’ face must have looked more alarmed than he meant to show, for Peter sighed and added “I’m reasonably sure you’re going to. Live.”

“I’m instantly reassured,” Stiles gritted, trying to keep as still as possible.

Stiles drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, but was abruptly jolted back at the sound of a door slamming open and a deep, angry growl.

“Derek stop- he’s keeping Stiles alive!”

That was Deaton’s voice.

“Yes Nephew, you wouldn’t want the boy to bleed out, would you?”

“Does Peter have another tone other than amused drawl?” Stiles thought.

He heard an amused snort. Huh, maybe that hadn’t been such a silent thought. He blinked his eyes, and suddenly there was a growling werewolf in his face.

“You can’t growl me better sourwolf,” Stiles murmured fondly.

“Stiles, I’m going to give you a shot of anaesthesia,” he heard Deaton say.

Stiles felt the sting (though it paled in comparison to his current pain issues). Derek was still looking down at him. His growl had faded to a whine. Stiles felt like whining himself. It wouldn’t sound as good as Derek’s version though.

“Stay?” Stiles said suddenly, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Derek’s worried eyes softened a little. He had pretty eyes.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on holidays right now, so you won't have to wait too long for the next installment (hopefully)!


	7. Chapter 7

“- should have been much worse, I,”

Stiles groaned, blinked his eyes as everything slowly spun into focus. He was lying on Peter’s couch. He tried sitting up, but his muscles twinged and ached and refused to respond. His arm and leg throbbed. Peter, Derek and Deaton were standing near him, watching him like he’d just interrupted something. Stiles could feel the pressure of a bandage on his arm and leg.

“So-“ Stiles said awkwardly. “I’m alive? How long was I out?”

Peter sighed. “I’m going to have to dry clean the carpet.”

Derek moved closer and sat on the armchair next to Stiles, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“You were out for an hour,” Derek said quietly. “I called Scott and your Dad and they came over to check on you. They’re out looking for the hunters now. You’re supposed to call them when you wake up.”

Stiles shifted uncertainly. Derek’s hand was warm and comforting on his shoulder. There was still something. There was a weird vibe.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Deaton approached Stiles and sat down opposite him. He looked weary, but that was all Stiles could pick up from him.

“The bullets that hit you didn’t go straight through you. They should have hit and splintered your bones and torn through muscle. The one in your calf hit a major artery. But when I started to examine you, the bullets were at the surface, ready for me to pull out. Your bones weren’t broken. You had lost blood, but your blood pressure wasn’t as low as it should have been. Stiles, you’re healing faster than anyone would expect.”

Stiles felt both relieved and confused.

“Well that’s good, I guess, though at the time it felt like that stuff was all happening. But you don’t know why?”

Deaton shook his head.

“Stiles, have you been trying out your Spark powers?”

Stiles glanced at Derek.

“No? We’ve- I’ve been trying to understand your stupid book. Powers seem to manifest differently for each Spark, yeah? Don’t see how that’s supposed to help. And why you couldn’t have just told me.”

Deaton smiled. “Knowledge is valued through discovery.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Derek cleared his throat.

“Could Stiles be doing it unconsciously? Some of the Sparks in the book weren’t aware of their powers in the beginning.”

Deaton looked thoughtful.

“It’s certainly possible that Stiles’ spark power could be manifesting. Do you feel hungry Stiles?”

Stiles pulled a face. “Well yeah, but what does me being hungry have to do with Spark stuff?”

“Using your powers takes energy. If you’ve been using your power to heal yourself, then you need to replace that energy.”

Peter sighed, and started moving towards the kitchen. “And now I have to offer my food, I suppose.”

Stiles grimaced. “So my power might be healing? I was hoping for something a little more badass. And how can I do it on purpose?”

Deaton shrugged. “Most of that is up to you, Stiles.”

Stiles groaned dramatically, then stopped as Derek dropped the phone into his hand.

“Ring your Dad.”

“Look I’m still healing here, I can’t even sit up!”

“You don’t have to be sitting up to use the phone.”

Stiles pouted. Derek stared at him sternly until he started dialling.

“Stiles are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Like I got shot!” Stiles quipped, then added after he heard a resigned sigh, “honestly Dad I’m fine. We’re currently speculating over whether my magic is healing me.”

“All right, good. Now explain to me what the hell you were thinking, going off by yourself?”

“Um…like I was just going to run an errand real quick, and nothing would happen?”

“And how did that work out for you?” came the dry reply.

“Well I didn’t die?”

Stiles heard the Sheriff give an exasperated, weary sigh.

“Look Dad, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Have you caught them yet? Any signs?”

There was a short silence while Stiles waited for his Dad to decide to let it go for now.

“Nothing yet. Chris is helping, and Scott is with me. So don’t you dare go running off by yourself again.”

“Okay Dad. And you be careful too.”

Stiles handed the phone back to Derek.

“There. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Derek deadpanned.

 Peter entered the room, holding a bowl with steam rising from the top.

“Oooh is that food?” Stiles said eagerly.

He could smell tomato and garlic and his stomach growled. Peter handed Stiles a warm bowl of pasta covered with a rich bolognaise sauce. Derek helped him sit up and Stiles devoured the pasta. Gradually he noticed that the aching in his limbs were slowly abating.

“I’m feeling a bit better,” Stiles admitted. “Maybe I have been using magic.”

Deaton didn’t change expression, as usual. Derek looked annoyed, and Peter was smirking at Derek.

“Glad to see I can provide,” Peter said, glancing sideways at Derek, who looked ready to snarl.

Stiles handed the bowl to Derek.

“Thanks. I’m good to go now.”

Stiles swung his feet to the floor and stood up, then promptly collapsed into Derek’s arms. Derek scooped Stiles up in a bridal carry.

“Hey!” Stiles said indignantly. “I can walk! I mean, just give me a minute.”

Derek snorted. “Not likely.” He turned to Deaton. “I’m taking him to the loft. It’s not safe here.”

“Lead the way,” said Peter. “We can’t let any harm come to me, I mean, look at me.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Deaton nodded, picking up his bag.  
“I’ll let the others know. I have some things to research back at the surgery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I'm sorry this update took so long. My Mum died suddenly- we were very close and I just lost all my writing mojo. I'm trying to get back into it, but it may be a slower process than normal.


End file.
